


28. Spanking

by Jensee, Unicorn (Jensee)



Series: Kinktober 2019 [21]
Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Bondage and Discipline, Burnplay, Crying, Cutter is tiny AND horny, Established Relationship, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Non-Consensual Violence, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Oral Sex, Sadism, Spanking, Under-negotiated Kink, Victim in pain, listen Cutter is a sadistic motherfucker, rape as punishment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 15:42:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21211019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jensee/pseuds/Jensee, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jensee/pseuds/Unicorn
Summary: Cutter has never learned to play with toys he couldn't just break and discard





	28. Spanking

**Author's Note:**

> okay so full disclosure I didn't really know what to do with today's kinktober and just remembered I'd written this a while ago, so I'm making it fit.
> 
> I don't quite know how to treat the violence in this. On the one hand, Cutter is a sadistic asshole who pretty much just takes it out on Enlil, for fun, and without his consent. On the other hand, I feel like I freaked out a bit too much the first time I reread myself, like oh my god this is too much, and I wonder if Enlil himself isn't overreacting when it comes to the pain part of it (although I'd say he has every right to feel threatened, the parameters of their relationship in the first place makes this interaction harder to judge)  
Anyway, this is a fucked up piece, please mind the tags and take care of yourself.

Enlil half heartedly pulled on Marcus’s hair to get him to swallow his cock. His boyfriend was looking up at him, in a look that seemed to be neutral, but Enlil could see the mix of boredom and cold anger - something dark and unyielding like steel - simmering below the surface of those grey-blue eyes.

It felt good. Of course it felt good. But Enlil wasn't used to domming Marcus, and he'd had no time to prepare himself, considering how out of the blue his boyfriend's demand had been.  
Marcus Cutter liked pain: he liked to feel, and sometimes it seemed like he couldn't even come if he didn't have enough bruises, or if Enlil didn't cry enough.

And right now, Enlil wasn't in any capacity able to provide that for him. He was too nervous to even enjoy using Marcus's mouth, and with every trembling attempt at domination, he could feel his boyfriend's exasperation and annoyance build up and up, which only made him more jittery and unsure.

Eventually, it seemed Marcus had had enough of his boyfriend's pathetic attempt at being mean.

"Alright baby. Stop." He didn't sound angry, but by now Enlil knew that didn't mean anything, and the painful grip Marcus had on his wrist was much more indicative of his mood. "I have had..." - Enlil could feel the wind of his sigh at Marcus stood up in front of him - "a very, _very_ long day at work." - he rid himself of his shirt, the buttons popping in a steady, unnerving rhythm until he could drop the whole garment to the ground - "And I had _hoped _that, after this _very_ _long day_, you would distract me from... this unpleasantness. But we can't even have that, can we?"

Marcus released his wrists on the bed, and Enlil tried to stay perfectly still as those cold, angry eyes approached his, already feeling the prickle of tears in his eyes. Slowly, deliberately, Marcus' left hand closed around his jaw - firm enough that he wasn't sure he could have broken free if he’d dared to try - while the other closed around his cock, too tight to be pleasurable.

"Can we?" Repeated Marcus, sweet like a dose of fast processing cyanure.

Enlil couldn't respond to that. He knew he didn't have the response Marcus wanted.

"I'm gonna make you a deal, Lil" he went on, and right then and there, even as Marcus used his loving nickname, it was easy to believe he used murder as a business practice, "either you get a move on, and _ finally _ fuck me like you mean it... Or _ I _ will fuck _ you _and I can't guarantee you'll enjoy it."

Enlil couldn't suppress the sob that escaped him then, or the way his eyes got blurry enough that he could barely see Marcus's features.

"Then I guess we're going with option B." He didn't sound cheery anymore, just steel and tight fury, and any hope Enlil could have had that this was some kind of act - that Marcus wasn't really angry at him, and only pushing him once again - vanished.

The hand on his jaw tightened as Marcus undid his pants with the other, the belt clattering loudly to the ground in Enlil's terrified silence.

"You better remember your safeword" murmured Marcus in his ear "because I _won't_ ask for it."

Then there were fingers gripping his hair painfully and Enlil was dragged down to face Marcus's cock. He only had time to open his mouth before Marcus shoved in. He could barely maintain himself on the bed, half-sprawled, half-seated still as his boyfriend rammed his throat. The angle was uncomfortable, but Marcus didn't seem to care as he pushed past the back of Enlil's throat, tugging on his hair to force himself further inside his mouth. There were too many things happening at once, and Enlil could barely concentrate on the pain in his neck as the cock in his mouth blocked his air supply mercilessly. Marcus was never what Enlil would call a gentle lover, but he'd never outright kept him from breathing like he was right then.

"You're good at this... aren't you, Lil ?" Marcus said as he speared Enlil's throat, his cock rubbing against it with each minute thrust, never retreating enough for Enlil to breath as he tried not to gag. "Being a little bitch for me... isn't that all you're good for?"

Tears and snot rolled freely on Enlil's face. His lungs burned, and his vision was starting to tunnel when Marcus finally relented, retreating enough that Enlil could begin to take in a big breath, only to get cutted halfway by Marcus's cock all over again, making him choke on what little air he'd managed to take in.

"Come on, Lil" cooed Marcus, the painful grip he had on Enlil's hair suddenly replaced by a firm but gentle caress, "surely you can do better than that. You still have to redeem yourself, baby."

Enlil's sob died before it could reach his lips, and he tried to use his tongue to caress the cock that was blocking his airway. Marcus was deep enough inside him that it couldn't amount to much but he let out a little pleased sigh, before finally starting to move, in a quick rhythm that was just ample enough that Enlil could finally breathe again, as halted and difficult as it was. The angle gave him little wiggle room, and actually sucking and licking Marcus's dick was an effort Enlil could barely maintain. Everytime he flattered, though, Marcus would titter and scold him like a child wasting his food, and settle himself deep down Enlil's throat to keep him from breathing, forcing him to start again if he didn’t want to choke.

By the time his boyfriend let out a little, stuttering moan, and began to lose rhythm in his thrusts, all of Enlil's joints ached, and it felt like his jaw was unhinged, unable to ever close properly again.

Finally, Marcus's hips stuttered, pushing his cock deeper into Enlil's mouth, choking him once again as he tensed and shuddered against him. Enlil tried to take Marcus's cock completely into his mouth then, to swallow his come like he was expected to, but the hand in his hair pulled him away, and Enlil's mouth was suddenly free as Marcus painted his face with semen.  
"That's a good boy," Marcus sighed, but his expression didn't change as he did and Enlil's hesitant smile was only met with a cold glare "Don't look at me like that. We're not done yet, and _ you _ have got a _ lot _to make up for. Turn around."

Enlil scrambled to obey, relieved at the possibility to find a somewhat comfortable position to rest his protesting limbs in. He laid himself face down on the bed, trying to discretly massage his aching jaw while intently listening to the sound of Marcus finishing undressing.

He wasn't surprised when Marcus took hold of his wrists to attach them to the bedpost with some of Enlil's sturdy silk ropes. His movements held no tenderness, but they weren't necessarily cruel either, and he allowed Enlil to rest his upper torso on a pillow so he wouldn’t pull on his shoulders as much. It wasn't a lot maybe, but it was enough to be reassuring: Marcus was still making sure he didn't get actual lasting damage from his rather violent approach to intimacy.

"Now," - Enlil could hear the click of a lighter as Marcus sat down on the bed beside him - "this usually goes without saying, but I'm _ punishing _you here, baby." Marcus paused to take a drag of his cigarette and Enlil had no problem picturing him, back-lighted by his bedside lamp and casting a calculating look down. "You enjoy it, you don't, I don't really care, but there's one thing you're not allowed to do. Care to tell me what it is?" Marcus's fingers rested lightly on the back of his neck, slowly travelling down his spine. Enlil could also feel the cigarette tip, not quite brushing his skin at time, and had to make a very deliberate effort not to shiver, all too conscious of the burning tip a few millimeters away from his back.

"I'm not allowed to come... sir"

Marcus didn't comment on the address, his hand now halfway down Enlil's back.

"No you're not. And I don't think I need to tell you Lil," - his fingers reached the dip just above Enlil's asscheecks - "that you do _ not _ want to disobey _ that _order."

And he pressed down the cigarette down on Enlil's skin, drawing a pained yelp from him as the tip extinguished itself, leaving a raised red spot when it died.

"Marc-" 

A hand slammed against his asscheecks and Enlil's protest was drowned in his cry of pain.

"No speaking either. You're not allowed to talk unless I ask you to." Marcus's voice cracked like a whip around Enlil's ears, the sound almost as sharp at the hot white pain on his skin.  
Another slap caught him right at the juncture of his thighs and Enlil whimpered weakly.

"You have been a very... _useless_ little toy lately, baby." - Marcus idly pressed his fingernails in the flaming skin, one of them catching Enlil's asshole and pulling on the fragile skin there, making his hips jolt up. The movement was punished by another violent slap, falling right over Enlil's hole. "We're going to have to correct that." Another slap. "Maybe I should rent you out." Another. "Teach you to please me" - Slap - "instead of just lying there" - Slap - "like some kind of _spoiled_ _kid_" Slap!

Marcus's hand felt like a hard metal utensil barely covered in skin, and its sharp crack against Enlil's flesh never managed to quite numb it, only adding more pain to the already existing burn. Enlil quickly lost any notion of time and it soon felt like he'd been screaming himself hoarse in his tears-soaked pillow for _ days_. The whole area from the early swell of his ass to the middle of his thighs felt like a forest fire and Marcus only added fuel to it, punctuated by words Enlil could only hear the tone of: cold, disappointed, and angry.

After what felt like an eternity, Marcus gave pause to the spanking, letting Enlil gasping breaths and quiet sobs fill the silence.

"I hope you’re taking your punishment seriously, baby."

Enlil only whimpered as silently as he could, conscious of the order not to talk still hanging in the air. Marcus's hand returned to his ass, but his soft caressing motions only sent painful fire up Enlil's spine, his tortured flesh protesting even the gentle touch.

"I think you've had some opportunity to think... We're almost done."

Enlil bit down on his pillow to keep himself from screaming in anguish. "Almost" wasn't done and he wasn't sure he could take any more spanking.

"I'll allow you to count this time, baby, and when we reach our number, we'll be done." Enlil could hear a snapping sound behind him and felt himself immediately tense up. Whatever Marcus was planning to hit him with next, it wasn't with his hand anymore. "Any questions?"

"Marcus, please... please don't..." Enlil started to babble incoherently, feeling himself lose control of his tongue in fear.

"_ Questions _, Lil." Marcus's voice was biting and Enlil had a delirious instant where he wondered how Marcus could still call him by that nickname when he was so eager to beat him up senseless. But then again, he should have known his boyfriend's cruel streak had just been waiting for the right moment to be unleashed. 

"How... How much?" He finally managed to clear his mind enough to ask.

"Oh, no, baby. This isn't how this is going." - Enlil could hear Marcus's cruel little smirk - "You're counting _ up _."

A finger traced a last shape on Enlil's skin, leaving fiery lines in its wake, before leaving him.

"Ready?"

Before Enlil could sort himself out enough to respond, there was a sharp cracking sound and a line of fire exploded across his ass.

"The count, Lil?" Inquired Marcus when he ran out of breath to scream.

"O... one." Sobbed Enlil. "Please... ple... Aaah!"

This time, whatever Marcus was using - Enlil supposed it was his belt, but his overworked nerves probably could no longer be trusted for accuracy - hit one of his thighs.

He had to blink away his tears before he could make his throat work again.

"Two."

Crack.

"Three."

Crack.

"Four."

Enlil wasn't sure if he was imagining it or not, but it felt as though his skin had cracked open like an egg under the blows, and he pictured his legs covered in blood slowly tickling down from his destroyed thighs, while Marcus licked his lips in sadistic pleasure.

He kept counting.

"Five."

Crack.

"Six."

Seven. Eight. Nine.

When Marcus didn't stop at ten, Enlil fell into desperate hysterics, begging and wildly pulling on his wrists to try and get away until Marcus firmly forced his head down and threatened to make him restart the count all over again. This was never going to end, he was sure of it. Marcus would just keep torturing him forever, never happy nor satisfied, until he would stop being an interesting toy.

Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen.

At fourteen, Marcus threaded a hand in his hair, giving him his most tender touch of the whole evening, and whispered to him about how well he was doing, how good he was, telling him it would soon be over. Enlil stayed numb through it, trying to conciliate the gentle tone with the radiating pain of his ass.

"Fifteen."

There was a sound behind him and he geared himself up for what was to come next, maybe something even more painful, even more excruciating. Marcus didn't have to stop after all: Enlil was at his mercy, his to hurt and damage.

There was a hand on his back. Where it didn't hurt. It didn't seem to be interested in making it hurt either; just a thumb tracing idle shape on the knobs of Enlil's spine.

"It's okay, Lil. It's over. You're done." Marcus bent down and Enlil could feel dry lips brushing his neck. "I'm proud of you."

This only brought fresh tears to Enlil's eyes, and Marcus let him ride the outburst out, gently caressing his spine as he did so.

Then he slowly undid Enlil's binding, freeing his wrists and soothing the rash skin there with his thumb.

"You did so good, Lil. You look so good like this, so beautiful for me."

Enlil tensed as the gentle fingers on his skin traveled down, crossing the burn at the beginning of his ass crack and reaching his hole, not as hurt as the rest of him but still uncomfortably sore.

"So beautiful... I want to fuck you like this." His voice was light, thoughtful, as if his words didn't hit Enlil like a punch to the guts.

He began to whine again, unable to coherently formulate his protests, his pleas.

"It's okay, baby. You're gonna be okay." Marcus kissed his ear, and Enlil felt the bed dip around him, felt the heat of Marcus's body radiate over him. The hand on his ass began to play with his hole again, too dry and too forceful to feel any good. "You can even come if you want, baby, alright?"

I don't want it, wanted to say Enlil, I don't want this.

"No..." he mumbled quietly.

"It's okay, baby, I've got you."

There was a splash of something cold on his skin, bringing a semblance of relief from the burning pain that still coursed through him and then the fingers were back, pushing the liquid in his ass and lubing it up just a touch. "You should see yourself, Lil. You look incredible like this." He sounded happy, content even, and Enlil felt Marcus brace himself over him.

"No..."

Marcus sank into him.

Enlil was... a well-used toy. He wasn't especially tight and had Marcus been careful or patient, being penetrated would have barely felt uncomfortable. As it was, Enlil let out a yelp of pain as his tormentor forced his way inside him, that turned into a moan of agony when Marcus's skin slapped against his own, tortured one.

"You're so warm, baby." Murmured Marcus into his neck as if he was oblivious to Enlil's gasps of pain everytime he moved inside him. "So good for me." Marcus took a firm hold of his waist to angle him like he wanted, and his cock viciously slammed down on Enlil's prostate.

Enlil's world blew up behind his tightly shut eyelids, pain and pleasure mixing savagely in an overwhelming fusion of violent sensations. Both the pain and pleasure climbed and climbed as Marcus kept on hammering both on Enlil's prostate and his burning flesh, speeding up and up until Enlil's overworked body finally spasmed and gave up, letting him fall into a black, silent oblivion.

Enlil came to a dark room. His bedroom. His ass radiated an aching pain, echooed on a much smaller scale by the pain in his wrists and shoulders. His face, and the rest of his body felt clean though, and he was wrapped up into a comforting warmth, a blanket tucked close to his body and an... arm around him, keeping him close to the the warm torso pressed against his forehead. It was thin and firm, with a skin almost unnaturally pale and almost invisible seam-like scars running across its length.

A hand was woven into his hair, slowly massaging his scalp in a soothing, repetitive motion.

It was comforting.

It was perfect.

Enlil began crying.

He couldn't help it, couldn't control the sudden sob that tore out of his throat and the shuddering helplessness that shook him. Marcus drew him in closer, offering his body as a fortress and his caresses in Enlil's hair as a comfort.

It was both better and worse, and Enlil uncontrolled sobbing went on for a long time, shaky and too deformed to be put into words. All the while, Marcus offered placating nonsense, pathetic and devoid of any real feeling, and somehow comforting all the same. Enlil would have felt bad about it if he'd been able to do anything other than shiver and burrow himself closer into a warm embrace.

Gradually, Enlil managed to get control back over his breathing. He took another minute to get a grip on himself, before putting his hand under himself and levering himself up.

Marcus's gaze in the darkness was inscrutable, unwavering.Indifferent. Enlil held it for a long moment, trying to decipher any hint of feeling. He couldn't find anything.

"Why did you do that?" Even to his own ears he sounded defeated.

"You didn't use..."

"I don't care!"

Marcus pursed his lips, looking annoyed and angry.

"I could hardly know..."

"Oh, come on! You knew exactly what you were doing. You..." the word wedged itself in Enlil's throat like a rigged fishbone. "You knew what you were doing."

Marcus Cutter, for the first time that Enlil had seen, looked like he might be genuinely repentant. It was almost comical, in a rather horrible way that Enlil really didn't have the heart to find funny.

When he spoke, his voice was low and somehow less steady that he sounded when he was about to come.

"You knew what I was like."

Enlil's hands trembled and he gripped the sheet to make it stop.

"Maybe I didn't."

"Lil..."

"Don't call me that."

Marcus's expression became unreadable again, and his posture straightened even more. He barely looked human, thought Enlil, sadly. So perfect, so punctual, charming, diplomatic, and ever so slightly _wrong_. His mask was back on: Enlil could see the edges in the dim light seeping from outside, gentle and nice enough that you could bypass his cold, dead eyes.

"What do you want me to do, then?"

Enlil gulped and tried to keep his voice from shaking.

"Leave."

Marcus was perfectly still for several seconds that stretched like hours in Enlil's mind. Then...

"Okay." He said simply.

And he began getting up, and gathering his clothes. Enlil's heart was in his throat, pulsing in a sickening beat, and he pushed his fingernails deep into his own skin to try and keep himself from screaming, from pleading Marcus to stay, not to leave him.

Marcus was dressed in an instant that both felt like it had stretched into eternity and like it had lasted no more time than the blink of an eye. Enlil followed him to his door like a dream, as if to keep him from leaving, as if to repair the giant tear he was sure was sectioning him in two.

Then the was door was open and Marcus was on the other side, glancing back at Enlil's trembling figure.

"For what it's worth, I'm..."

"Don't call me."

Enlil slammed the door and it was all he could to climb back into his bed before he broke down into another uncontrollable fit of tears that only stopped when he finally fell asleep.


End file.
